Fleeting Moments
by You're killing me now
Summary: They say that when something crumbles, it's easier to put back together. Everyone has a secret they haven't shared. Everyone has a past no one's heard about. Everyone has weaknesses hidden inside. AU Klaine!Breakup.
1. One year and eight months before

**Right, Hello. **

**So we had decided that we wanted to finish this story by at least the end of August and put it up. However things came up so we've only written around 15 chapters, many are not even in order. Even so we've still decided to put it up now; there will be two chapters after this one that will come a day after eachother. After we upload them we'll go into updating once or twice a week, but it will be consistent.**

**Anyway, we've worked very hard on what we've got at the moment and we'd love some feedback. We've been writing this since May now, it's been read-over so many times and we think it's pretty good but again, feedback would be lovely.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>One year and 8 months before<em>

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><p>Kurt Hummel honestly was just surprising his boyfriend when he walked quietly through the halls of Dalton one more time, a bouquet of beautiful white flowers held in his hand. He saw enough of Blaine at the weekends and even after school, as promised, but when told that McKinley would be having a day off after a pipe blew in the girls toilets (speculated that Santana did the deed in the midst of an argument) he couldn't miss the opportunity of seeing the inside of the regal school once more.<p>

He'd planned everything to the specific detail, as always. He woke up at the normal time for Kurt Hummel, which made sure he had enough time to get ready. He'd selected a casual yet flattering outfit – white top, blue plaid shirt and then those dark jeans that he knew Blaine loved. He'd left the house, greeted with the cold January air hitting his face like a small slap just before 9am so he could find the perfect flowers and get there right when they had morning break.

And, driving in the car, he got those jitters. He didn't know if you could exactly call them jitters, but it was the same feeling he felt before he was going to see Blaine. It was more like butterflies. Just happy butterflies, fluttering around calmly inside of his stomach and making him smile.

God knows why he still got so excited. They'd been dating for over a year now and they'd pretty much learnt everything about each other. In the sense of _everything._

... Okay, they did it.

Kurt called it making love. Blaine found that adorable and sometimes did too. They obviously hadn't just dated for two weeks and had sex, no. It was a gentle process, mostly thanks to the Dalton Warbler as he was cautious about how far Kurt wanted to go. They started off slow, gradually exploring more, but Kurt seemed to lose himself and take over. Which, Blaine had learnt to just let him do.

Kurt had to shake his head quickly and grip the steering wheel a little tighter as he thought about it. He smirked a little bit because, while his mind was on it, he began wondering what they'd do later. He knew Blaine had a free house tonight – in fact, he had a free house for the next four days. Another advantage to work-obsessed parents and a brother who was at University.

The two hour trip was slightly boring as usual, but Kurt had recently bought an adapter for his iPod in the car so he just belted out his playlist while driving down the motorway. This included the Wicked Soundtrack, Lady Gaga and even a little Beyoncé. Without needing to say, he got many weird looks at the faces he was pulling, but he pulled up to the majestic private school and here he was, walking to see his boyfriend.

Ah. Boyfriend. Still got him every time.

As soon as he walked down that regal staircase, it was a repeat of his first ever visit to this school. He stuck out like a panda at a Mall. Well, like a sore thumb.

This time though, no one just walked past him. As soon as someone with a familiar little button pinned to their lapel spotted him, they yelped and ran quickly. In a normal school, this would be a bad sign, but when the little button was the emblem of the Warblers, a yellow canary, this meant that the said person was grabbing the rest of the club for a massive group hug.

He wasn't disappointed and after being almost piled on top of in the middle of a hallway, Kurt grinned and escaped, brushing his clothes off. He managed to pull David to the side for a hopefully normal conversation.

"Where you guys heading then?" He grinned, flashing his teeth. David beamed too.

"Cafeteria – you looking for a certain Hobbit?"

Kurt snorted and replied, "If you mean my boyfriend, then yes. Seen him?"

"Uh, I think he was still in the choir room," David said, pointing down the corridor, although Kurt obviously knew where it was. Thanking him, he waggled his fingers to the group of boys, picked up his flowers (carefully set aside for the hug) and set off.

He paused outside the choir room and anxiously checked his breath slightly. Okay, still smelt of cinnamon – exactly the way Blaine liked it.

Smiling, he gently pushed open the door, wondering if Blaine was studying. If he was, he would be seated in his usual chair, facing away from the door and tucked up into the furthest corner of the room. Sure enough, in the corner was a small pile of books, a few pieces of lined paper and a pen – but no Blaine.

And then Kurt heard a small whimper.

It sent shivers down his spine and his heart beat juddered almost irregularly. He knew that noise, it was so familiar-

A tiny moan interrupted his thoughts and there was a small thud.

Kurt's blood ran cold, because he knew he was right, even though his brain screamed at him that he was wrong, that he must be wrong. That was most definitely _his_ _boyfriend_ making those noises. And he only made them when they were making out.

Kurt stepped into the room and looked left. And even though he wanted his eyes to be lying to him, he saw Blaine.

Up against the wall.

_Pushed_ up against the wall.

Arms pinned above his head by _someone that wasn't Kurt._

And he was being kissed.

Kurt's breathing hitched and stumbled, stopping all together. His hand froze on the door and the only part of him that moved was his mouth, slowly falling open into a tiny o.

Blaine had squeezed his eyes shut but he suddenly opened them, turning his head away and locking onto Kurt. At that exact moment, it felt as though he had literally taken a jagged piece of wood and ripped it through Kurt's chest, catching skin on the wall and embedding splinters all over him. Everything was rushing at him, all the same time and Kurt realised that he wouldn't be able to stand, he wouldn't be able to hold his stomach and he – couldn't – breathe –

Blaine was kissing another guy.

Kissing-

Another guy-

That wasn't-

Kurt-

His grip on the flowers slipped, letting them drop to the floor. The soft sound of them hitting the floor and the cellophane crackling slightly seemed to pull Blaine from- from whatever the _hell_ he was doing and the guy who Kurt didn't even know, he just continued practically licking his face, almost groping him. Blaine jumped and seemed to gather all his strength, shoving the guy in the chest but when he didn't relent, Blaine pulled a knee up sharply to his crotch, gasping for air.

Kurt's eyes brimmed with tears and he clapped a hand to his mouth the sound echoing throughout the hall. The guy had slipped backwards, hand on his groin and eyes bulging as he grunted in pain.

"Wh…" Kurt tried to say beneath the hand but he couldn't keep it in. He was going to vomit, he knew it.

"Kurt-" Blaine tried to say, tears already trailing down his face. He looked pleading and sad and- and like _he _wanted comfort?

"No!" Kurt shouted, louder than he should've and he did the only thing he could do – he ran. He turned and sprinted back out the room, up the now empty corridor.

"No, Kurt, _stop!"_ Blaine suddenly yelled, voice breaking he strode forwards quickly, faltering.

Kurt screwed his face up as tears blurred his vision and suddenly a hand grasped his arm. Kurt opened his eyes, a snarl ready to shove Blaine off but found he was staring into the worried eyes of Wes.

"Woah, Kurt, what's-?" He asked quickly and spun around to see Blaine at the other end of the hall, in the doorway of the choir room. But now the tall boy was stood behind him and he grabbed both his shoulders, smiling. Even facing his back, Kurt could see Wes's face contort in anger.

"You!" He yelled at either Blaine or the other guy, Kurt didn't know, but as soon as Wes's hand left his arm, he turned and fled again, ignoring the shouts directed either at him or anyone else. As soon as he exited the building, he almost fell over and, bent at the waist, puked up his guts.

Blaine had- Blaine had _cheated _on him.

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><p><strong>This isn't the typical; Blaine cheats on Kurt, they talk it out, they fall madly in love again. To be honest this chapter is just something that is needed to keep it moving and hey, maybe it will have a happy ending, maybe it won't.<strong>

**Thank you for reading!**


	2. One year and six months before

**I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for your responses so early into this fic! I think our main fear was that after the effort, it wouldn't pick up. This idea was fresh to us months ago, so we kind of thought it wouldn't be now. Again, thank you, and enjoy.**

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><p><em>One year and 6 months before<em>

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><p>"Kurt, <em>please<em>, just listen to him!"

_Never again._

"Kurt, tell me. I'm your best friend, talk."

_I can't. I can't._

"Why doesn't he say anything anymore?"

_Because I don't care about anything anymore._

"Kurt, please do something. We miss _you._"

_Do what? Cry myself to sleep? Shut myself down? Yeah, done those already._

"You can always talk to me about it, okay?"

_Leave me alone._

"Come on Kurt, you can't ignore him forever."

_Huh. But I can, and I will._

"Why won't you just smile?"

_I don't know._

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><p>Kurt refused. He refused to listen to anyone at all about Blaine. It seemed like everyone he valued just... just betrayed him. Dad, Carole, Mercedes, Rachel, Wes, David – hell, even Finn. They all tried to convince him to listen to the Warbler, to hear him out. Wes had even lost it at one point, which was slightly scary thing to witness.<p>

But, he hadn't been angry at Kurt. He'd just screamed, "You can't just do this! Kurt, please, please, you have no idea what he's even _been_ through, you have no idea what-!"

At that point David intervened but it shook Kurt up none the less. The stupid, stupid part of his brain was curious about what Wes had meant and it was worried. And Kurt hated the fact he couldn't control how he felt about Blaine.

He was powerless. He was weak. He was pathetic.

He couldn't even get over one guy.

Because he thought he loved him.

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><p>"Kurt!"<p>

The countertenor closed his eyes and a soft groan escaped his lips. He was busted. Kurt was standing in the middle of a corridor, leaning against his locker when right now he should've been in English with around 30 minutes worth of notes in front of him. He just didn't have the energy to sit down and pretend that he was simply tired because he had a late night.

"Kurt," The voice said again, from behind him. As he was leaning on one shoulder, Kurt pushed himself up and turned around to be greeted with the face of Mr Schue walking up to him.

He didn't even bother putting a smile on his face, "Mm?"

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in a lesson?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement, "Oh. Yeah."

The Spanish teacher opened his mouth for a second, a frown on his face, before closing it and exhaling. He plastered a sympathetic smile on his face and gestured with his hand, "Can I speak to you for a second?"

Kurt watched him and took a little breath in. He straightened his shoulders and nodded, following the teacher down the halls and into the room he called his own. He slowly sat in one of the chairs, not taking his bag off his shoulder and Mr Schue leaned against his desk opposite him.

"Kurt, I'm going to be frank," He said, "I know it's none of my business, but recently I've noticed you suddenly become... withdrawn."

Kurt's eyes flickered away from him.

"I just want to offer some advice." There was another pause and when Kurt didn't reply, he continued, "I went through a tough time nearly two years ago now. And I found that a good way to deal with it was to write about it."

Kurt looked back to the teacher with slightly narrowed eyes.

Mr Schue swallowed, "It's a good way to get emotions out, when you can't talk to anyone else. I may not have the qualifications like Miss Pilsbury, but if you ever need to come talk to me, then my room is always open."

Kurt nodded and whispered a brief, "Thank you." Mr Schue looked a little disappointed but nodded and waved his hand as if to dismiss him.

Kurt pressed his lips together and stood up a little shakily. He walked slowly from the room and once he turned the corner, dug his hand in his pocket to find his car keys. Despite missing education and the fact that a vest-obsessed man stuck in the 80's gave him advice, it seemed like a good idea to go home and filter his thoughts out.

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><p><em>Late January, can't remember the date. It's around half 2. I should be in English right now.<em>

_Who knew I'd take up the idea that Schue gave me? I just - I can't actually put my feelings into words right now, which is what this is for._

_Hm, okay. Blaine._

_Ugh._

_Just thinking about what he did is already making me cry._

_Oh God, now I am crying._

_I can't believe he'd- after all he said. He told me that he loved me._

_I lost my fucking virginity to that asshole. Ha, literally._

_Oh my God, that was – Well, who knew he_

_I can't actually finish that joke. I just want to be right next to him now and have him consoling me. It'd probably be over something stupid like mud on my clothes. Did you know, sometimes I actually overreacted on purpose? Just so he would pull me over to the bed or the sofa or whatever and hug me for a while, whispering nonsense in my ear. It was usually just 'don't worry' or 'it'll wash out' or 'it's not the end of the world, baby'._

_Oh, he used to call me baby. That was nice. It kind of reminded me of mom._

_He also called me Kurtie, just to wind me up probably, although I eventually found it sweet. I never told him that though. _

_I also never told him that sometimes I'd think a lot. Like, whenever I was staring into the distance or not paying attention, I'd plan. I knew exactly how we were going to live. We'd probably both end up going to New York, and if not, we'd still be a great couple. And then we'd buy this luxurious flat. It'd be very modern, very chic and I wouldn't let him touch the colour samples or the paint. He'd probably paint it bright orange or lime green just for fun. But we'd continue getting coffee every morning, although at this point it'd be Starbucks because we could afford it._

_And once we got a house. It would be beautiful. Full of Emma Bridgewater and lovely earthy colours and Blaine would have his own music room and we'd definitely put a piano in there as we both play it, although he's better than me. We'd adopt, or surrogate. They'd be adorable._

_Oh, look at me, look at this. I'm useless. _

_I needed him, okay? I needed Blaine. I still do. I still want him._

_But I just can't get over the feeling of when I saw him and that jerk. It was literally, every single cliché on top of each other. I even felt heat rushing to my face because I was embarrassed – for myself, can you believe that? It was humiliating._

_Blaine. Blaine_

_I need to stop, I think I'm actually hypperten- venti- panic attack-_

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><p>The diaryjournal/book helped, a lot, it had to be said. Kurt never got a chance to thank the glee club director properly but it seemed to help him get through everything. The endless questions, the pestering and even sometimes literal begging. Every single night, mostly more than once, he'd pick up a pen and open the notepad. Although he ended up crying each time, it was like a huge weight was being slowly lifted off his shoulders, gram by gram.

And although Kurt missed him like crazy, it was better that he never saw the short dark haired teen.

Gradually, people left him and let him be. Wes and David would simply meet him for coffee every few days, weary smiles on their faces and not mentioning his name. Whenever Kurt stood at his locker, Mercedes would sometimes just watch him with searching eyes before blinking slowly and smiling at him. Mr Schue seemed more than happy to accept the fact that Kurt was fine and coping by now. His dad and Carole knew he was acting differently but had stopped the daily talks and left the countertenor with the reassurance of always being there to listen.

He just couldn't get into anything anymore. He didn't see a reason to properly try at anything, because he knew he could ace these exams. He knew his friend's would be with him. He knew his family would always support him. He wasn't being cocky or arrogant, it was the truth.

Sure enough, months started to fade away right before his eyes. The slowly warming sun meant nothing to Kurt, nor did the trees getting greener, the grass growing again. Multiple sales in shops started and ended but he wasn't running to make a bargain out of it like he should've been. Fashions changed and Kurt kept up with them, seemingly the only thing that spurred him on to have any form of energy. And his book.

The entries were numerous and consistent. The book was starting to brim with full pages, scribbled in his hasty yet eloquent handwriting. Some had been ripped, screwed up in anger whereas others were stained and smudged with ghosts of tears. A few of them contained tiny drawings, minute sketches, mostly of memories or planned future moments, dancing around on the tip of his thoughts.

As dates flew past him in a flurry, Kurt expanded. He'd ripped off the tacky plastic cover of the notebook and replaced it with a sheet of gorgeous leather he'd found by chance while searching charity shops with Carole. Woven into the sleek hard material was an intricate pattern, a design he couldn't place, but it was beautiful. He added sheets and sheets of paper to the book every night and then tied it tightly with a ribbon, placing it in the same hidden place.

It was a stunning large mahogany box which once belonged to his mother. She would keep necklaces in it, letting them spread out into circles instead of bunching them up into a tiny jewellery box. And even though the book was close to bursting point, it was a perfect fit inside that box.

Soon enough, too soon for everyone but just mildly surprising for Kurt, exams came. Goodbyes began to form and Senior prom kicked him in the nuts as he stayed at home while all of New Directions went. That night the book gained 7 and ½ more pages.

Before Kurt even knew it, graduation had arrived.


	3. One year before

**Have to apologise for the late update, hours-wise! This is the last chapter that will be uploaded in a day-by-day sense. The fourth should be coming up this Saturday (probably around 3pm GMT, if anyone's wondering) and from then on, we will be updating every Wednesday and Saturday. **

**Enjoy.**

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><p><em>One year before<em>

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><p>Somewhere down the line, he felt extremely guilty, especially as he watched his father and Carole hug Finn. He'd been in a 'funk' for months now and it was still affecting everybody else, the opposite of what he wanted. Obviously the writing helped him vent, yet it seemed to pull him even closer into his shell.<p>

Kurt's lips thinned and he tried to compose him-self as a realisation hit him with a cruel punch. He'd wasted his time with his parents, his friends, his last year at school. Everything was wasted.

Soon he felt himself being engulfed in a soothing hug from Carole and next was his dad. Kurt unexpectedly clenched his arms as tight as possible around his back and Burt embraced him just as tightly.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and moved his head towards the direction of the middle-aged man's neck. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Burt didn't say anything back, but he gave Kurt a final squeeze and released him.

"I'm so proud of you boys." He said, his voice wavering as he clasped Carole's hand.

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><p>After graduation, the Glee Club of 2012 had all been invited to Mr Schue's house for pizza and a bottle of wine, just like he'd promised all those months back. Kurt wouldn't have known though, he'd been at Dalton at the time.<p>

_Dalton._

"Well everyone..." The Spanish teacher began, "I never thought Puck would get here-" A bundle of laughs chorused and Puck let out a yell of protest but then grinned and nodded along. "But we all did it, together."

The club clapped and hooted a little more, glancing around at everyone with shining eyes before Mr Schuester calmed them down again.

"I hope this isn't the last I ever see of you guys; you've taught me so much. Not to mention you've all grown up, each and every one of you. I'm honestly so proud. None of you are the people who first walked in to that downgraded music room. You may have left McKinley but you guys will never leave my heart. But for now, I think it's time to celebrate!"

And with that final word, the teacher popped the cork open to the bottle of wine, another wave of cheers going around. A few people had tears in their eyes but none were actually shed.

They were all together, probably for the last time.

Kurt didn't let his sulking get in the way of enjoying this moment either. Blaine had taken many things away from him since the break up, but Kurt was too headstrong to let Blaine take this away from him too.

To the rest of the glee club, it seemed that Kurt had gotten back to himself.

_Better late than never, _Mercedes thought as she watched him, sending a knowing glance to Rachel.

Then - finally it was time to leave.

Everyone hugged everyone, not caring that a few of them still had a week left and would be seeing them soon.

Rachel had been the first to cry, although it could be more accurately described as wailing. "I just want to thank every one of you for this journey. I shall mention it in my Golden Globe speech and how you all inspired me!" she kept repeating.

As Puck hugged Kurt, the smaller boy could have sworn that he felt Puck's shoulders quiver, as if he was crying. The tough boy coughed it off though and smiled to Kurt, "Have a good trip. 'Member, if those guys up in New York give you any trouble, you call your good old friend Puck, 'kay? I'll come sort them for you."

Kurt would have usually given a sarcastic yet appreciative come back or laughed at him, but instead he pulled the other boy into another hug, whispering, "Good luck, Noah."

Puck had been the first to pull away this time, sending the slender boy a smirk, "The Puckmeister doesn't need luck... But thanks. See you around some time, Kurt."

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><p>The last week before Kurt was set to move to New York, he spent time with the slowly diminishing number of New Directions. At one point, he even found himself with Mike and Artie. He'd always liked them, but never really spoke to them properly, so mutually accepted the chance to help the wheelchair bound man to pack.<p>

Without anyone knowing properly, Artie had gotten himself a scholarship to a computing to a University in New England and was set to move in on Wednesday. It was all hushed but he was very proud. Kurt could tell from the smile placed on his face.

"Well, I think that's it Artie. All packed and ready to leave."

"I guess so..." The singer replied, sighing.

Mike made his way over the chair Kurt was sitting on and flopped down onto the bed, "I can't believe this is how it all ends..."

"What do you mean?" Artie asked, wheeling himself closer.

"Just, all of it you know? I can't believe how fast it all went, how easy it all seemed..." Kurt let himself zone out. _It hadn't all been easy,_ he thought – well, not for him.

"What's going on about you and Tina?"

The young Asian looked down at his hands and squirmed in the seat, "We're going to be in different time-zones and we're both so far away from each other..." Artie and Kurt swapped a knowing look. "We decided to end it," he confirmed.

Kurt frowned; _they were always perfect for each other though_. Kurt started thinking more, allowing the two friends to have an in depth conversation without him which he didn't mind.

Suddenly Artie asked, "What about you Kurt? Do you think you'll ever get over Blaine?" The countertenor flinched without meaning to and then shrugged.

He thought about not talking, he also made up ten excuses as for why he needed to leave but instead he turned to face his two friends.

"Honestly?" He asked "I think I'll always love... Well, I think- _no,_ I _know_ there's still a part of me that loves him, but we were different, Mike. You and Tina are honestly perfect for each other," he gave the boy sitting next to him a smile, "I think you'll both find each other in the end."

Mike grinned and nodded, "Maybe you're right Kurt... And you know, we all thought Blaine was pretty perfect for you too."

Kurt stilled, the smile dropping off his face, "Obviously he didn't agree."

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><p><em>Last day in Ohio ever. <em>Kurt wrote in his perfect cursive writing.

_I love you Blaine. I honestly think I always will and I hate myself for it. _

_You've ruined me, I'm tainted. _

_It seems as if I can't be happy if I'm not yours... I guess when I gave you everything, I really did give you everything and you abused that. I need to let go. _

_I'm moving today you know? New York, just like I'd dreamt... _A few tears splattered down the page and Kurt wiped them up quickly.

_I might still be a teenager Blaine but I think it's time I left our teenage nightmare behind. _

_I have no idea what you plan on doing with your life, it might have changed since the months we've been apart. I won't ask Wes and David to tell me because it's unfair to them. I think I'll always be curious about you though... _

_I just wanted to say good luck to you Blaine. To future lovers, friends, jobs, education and everything. _

_Signed, Kurt E Hummel. _

Wiping his eyes, he reached for his desk draw and pulled out a box, full of the things that reminded him of Blaine, of what they were. Taking a large gulp, Kurt ripped the page out and and slid it into the book.

He took one glance at his to take, throw, leave pile. At first he let it fall into throw but then after a few seconds he snatched it back and cradled it to his chest. He couldn't just throw something like this, but he didn't exactly want to keep it. Locked in that book was the old Kurt; he wanted to be the new one, the one without any baggage. Sighing, he placed it in the 'leave' pile.

_But what if it accidently gets thrown out?_ A faint voice in Kurt's head whispered, sounding suspiciously like a Warbler. Grumbling excuses to himself, he picked up the book again and turned it around in his hands. He'd take it.

Leaning over his bed he reached for the old mahogany box. Kurt traced his hands over the small carvings of patterns. It still smelt like his mom's perfume. Kurt carefully opened the box and was met with trinkets, bits of old paper, photographs. Before he could get the chance to swamp up in the memories stashed inside, he placed the book and let the lid fall closed with a sharp snap.

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><p>In Westerville, Ohio, a curly haired boy was also going through old photographs.<p>

His face was monotone and he would sometimes pause and a tiny smile would grace his beautiful features but other than that he set to work like a robot. The mass of curly hair only paused once while looking at a few photos. He picked one up and paused.

No smile graced his features only hurt swivelled in his eyes.


	4. Eight months before

_Eight months before_

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><p>A whole year.<p>

Rachel had no idea how Kurt did it.

She thought he was over it, she thought Blaine was just the first of a selective group of boys whom Kurt could date. She did know deep down that Kurt loved him but he seemed to be over it, so she ignored it. They both rented their own place, together, because they _could._

Finn visited. Kurt smiled and acted perfectly cordial. He couldn't miss Blaine, could he?

He didn't show it. Not for months.

And then one night, Rachel came home early to grab a large folder of sheet music which she'd been pouring over the previous night and forgotten in a coffee-induced rush that morning. She slipped through the front door quickly and unusually quietly, because Kurt always said he'd fall asleep for a few hours at this time. On the way to her room, she recognised a sudden choking sound echo through the seemingly empty house.

It was followed by a tiny sob and another gasp. Then a few more broken cries.

Rachel bit her lip and inched towards Kurt's ajar door, finding him sat by his desk with his back to her. He had run his hands through his hair badly, which was a panic sign even if the weeping wasn't. She backed away and almost fled from the house, sheet music forgotten.

That had terrified her. Kurt had never looked so fragile.

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><p><em>Six and a half months before<em>

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><p>It was never unusual for Rachel to flounce into the apartment, emotions flying in some sort of happiness, while shouting some random statement, so Kurt didn't take it too seriously this time.<p>

"Kurt," She said in a sing-song tone, "I have something I need to talk to you about!"

The countertenor didn't look up from buttering his bread as the petite girl almost twirled in, dropping her keys onto the oak counter. "What's up?"

"I saw something interesting today," She said, sitting down in the stool opposite Kurt.

Kurt rolled his eyes as he cut up his sandwich and put it onto a plate, waiting for her to continue.

Noticing how the countertenor seemed uninterested, Rachel tried again, "Well, it was more of a _someone."_

"I really don't need to be set-up with anyone."

Rachel nodded, pulling a bit of her hair behind her ear. A silence followed in the room as Kurt began to eat.

"You're over Blaine, right?" She finally erupted.

Kurt's mouth slacked as his chewing almost came to a stop. He felt his head become heavy on his neck, as if someone had been putting weights on his ears. He felt as if someone had just thrown a water balloon in his face, the rubbery plastic siting against his cheeks but the water drenching through his clothes making them feel itchy.

Finally, he said, "Why are you bringing this up? Leave it alone."

"Kurt," She said letting out a long drawn sigh. "You can talk to me."

She went to reach over to Kurt's hands but he pulled them away automatically.

"I didn't want to talk about it when it happened and I most definitely don't want to talk about it now. Stop bringing _him _up. I'm far away from him now, so just leave it alone."

Rachel nodded not wanting an argument; she watched as he put his plate in the sink before stalking out of the room, his head bowed.

She knew Blaine was closer than Kurt originally thought.

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><p>She discovered the book nearly half a year later. Although prying was like an instinct to her, she didn't delve too far, but one page told her enough.<p>

_I don't think Rachel even knows she's doing it._

_She's in the shower now and singing along to her playlist. Her iPod is on shuffle because she says Wicked is too sad for some reason but now Katy Perry's blasting out._

_And she's singing and she's actually singing low for once but she can't and she shouldn't because this is __my__ song. This is mine and Blaine's song. She can't just sing it._

_Because now I'm sitting on the floor again. With the book, the photos, the memories spread out in front of me._

_These are tickets to Harry Potter 7. Part 2._

_I loved that night. He bought a massive bucket of popcorn and I just threw the healthy eating plan out of the window and accepted coke too even though it wasn't diet. Blaine cried throughout the whole film because it marked the end of his childhood, although to be honest, fucking me marked the end of that._

_There's a photo of me and him somewhere. The one where- yeah, I found it. He convinced me to go to a fairground with him, of all places. I remember when he took the photo, I was just about to eat a piece of pink cotton candy and so stopped and grinned. He loved the picture because you could see how pink my tongue was and when I tried to delete it, he kissed me. And told me I tasted delicious and he may have to just feed me candy all my life so I'd taste like it._

_We're in front of a carousel too. Blaine paid for that, and although he bagged the unicorn, I rode next to him on a beautiful white horse. And then, he leaned over again, stretching his hand out and I just laughed and took it and we held hands until the very end._

_Oh. I want to hold his hand so badly now. It had tiny calluses from his guitar playing but they were the cutest calluses you could ever get._

_Everything still reminds me of him._

_And Rachel won't stop singing._

It was true, she couldn't play Wicked anymore. Because every time the first few notes to Defying Gravity or For Good started playing, she could hear Kurt's voice echoing the lines. But it was getting fainter and fainter, buried under Glinda and Elphaba because Kurt didn't sing anymore.

She was scared she'd forget what his voice ever sounded like.

And she was constantly reminding him of someone he couldn't live without. She was an imminent source of second-hand heartbreak. She wasn't letting Kurt move on.

Rachel couldn't live with that thought clouding her mind.

And so she resolved to do something about it.


	5. Two weeks and Four days before

_2 weeks, 4 days before_

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><p>"Tell me again why we're packing this early?" David asked, surveying the mess that was Kurt's room. Wes and David had arrived as soon as possible after Kurt called them stating emergency, but now they were simply hanging in his room while he rushed around the destruction site.<p>

"Just because you leave everything until the night before, Wesley."

Wes lifted his head up from where he was sitting on the bed and locked eyes with David, who was sitting in Kurt's swivel chair. They exchanged a brief glance before the darker-skinned boy said, "I'm David."

Kurt paused and over his shoulder. Currently he was crouched down next to his wardrobe, both doors open and showing empty hangers with all the clothes on the floor. Kurt froze and looked between the two before smiling.

"Sorry, um-" He said, folding the sweater in his hand and placing it on the top of a small (large) pile of clothes, standing up, "- I just want to be ready."

There was another brief pause as David and Wes nodded in agreement and Kurt crossed the room. It was actually quite large considering the size of Rachel's and the rent of the flat, but he could tell the two boys felt otherwise, even if they didn't voice it.

David turned from side to side of the chair, sucking his lip, while Wes pulled his legs towards him, crossing them.

"What should we do, then?" Wes asked. He chuckled, "We're just sitting here."

"Oh," Kurt said, surprised. He looked around quickly and thought, "Well, David, you're good with papers, right? There's a whole stack of them in the desk drawer, if you wouldn't mind. And could you check through the bedside drawers, Wes? Thanks."

"Are you okay, Kurt?" David asked as he spun around to face the desk.

"You seem distant," Wes continued.

"I'm fine," Kurt said, closing the conversation, "How was last night's game? I missed it."

He knew that'd get them talking. As soon as they began to go into a big discussion, more with each other than Kurt, he slowly sunk to his knees by the pile of clothes again. He wasn't fine.

He didn't want to leave this flat. So maybe the bathroom paint was peeling slightly, maybe the kitchen window was jammed open, maybe the living room door didn't shut fully even if you threw your whole body weight against it – but this was his _home._ It had been for the past year. Rachel was actually the perfect person for him to live with, and he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before.

Her self-centred side, although slowly disappearing, let him fall into a much needed reverie of self pity every now and then. She was ruthless and bossy, which made her an angel at getting the worse problems of the flat fixed, the shopping done, the rent paid... Yet her good qualities overshadowed her bad by far.

She did care for Kurt, a lot. She genuinely wanted to know about his day, she gave him guidance when he recently changed his degree, she made sure he had plenty of pizza, coke and DVD's when he was feeling sad. She could tell what he needed just by glancing at his face.

He felt like crying because she'd been his rock. She'd kept him balanced. And now she was leaving him too.

He was being selfish, very much so. He wanted her all to himself, he wanted his dad, he wanted Carole, he wanted a large room with a plush fur comforter, he wanted an en suite for all his moisturising equipment. This was like leaving his Dad's house all over again.

Kurt sighed and surveyed the chuck pile. To make things easier, he simply had a chuck (give to charity) and keep pile. No 'save' or 'store', Rachel had made sure of that. But something caught his eye.

He reached out and picked at the navy sleeve of something under a mac that was too small for him now and pulled. The clothes piled on top fell down but Kurt ignored them as he now looked at the old Dalton pullover in his hands.

He didn't even bother to pause or check to see what the two boys behind him were doing, he just lifted it to his face and buried his nose in it.

Why did he even bring this?

"Kurt?"

Kurt dropped the material like it was a gun and turned around so fast, he clicked his neck. Wincing, he replied, "Mm?"

"What's this?"

Kurt breathed out a sigh of relief in favour of the abandoned clothing but his stomach jolted again when he realised Wes was holding a brown mahogany box.

An open brown mahogany box.

"Oh!" Kurt shouted, darting forwards and grabbing it quickly. Wes jumped and looked shocked as Kurt snapped the lid shut on the large diary and hugged the box to his chest. David turned around from the desk as well.

"Sorry, it's just- it's something special."

David coughed and Wes looked over to him. Kurt watched nervously as David raised his eyebrows in a sort of we-need-to-talk-to-him way. Kurt gulped. His suspicions were accurate.

"Kurt, I- I kinda feel like we should-" He was interrupted by a sharp cough from the Asian boy, "-Like_ I _should tell you something."

"About what?"

Another look to Wes.

_What are they, twins?_

"It's about Blaine."

Kurt actually nearly dropped the box in annoyance. He groaned loudly, let his head fall back and said loudly, "How many times, I don't want to talk about Blaine. That was _ages_ ago. Drop it."

"But-"

"Look, we've stayed friends, right?" Kurt said, looking back at them, "It just wasn't meant to be with B- me and him. Leave it at that."

"Kurt, I just-"

"Stop it!"

"_Listen, _then, I-"

"David, I _don't care._ I seriously still hate him as much as I did before and I know you're both still in contact with him to say the least but I don't want to talk or see him again. Now can we _please_ change the subject, or you may as well just go!"

David rolled his eyes and shook his head, saying, "Fine. Fine, okay?"

Kurt turned around and there was a few minutes silence before a casual conversation that he only had to half tune into started. He carefully placed the wooden box in his suitcase and then bent down again. Without a second glance, he threw the blue hoodie over to the chuck pile and delved almost elbow deep into the mess of clothes.

_You are the star, Kurt, remember that, _Kurt remembered Rachel's words to him, _No matter how much you feel down, just dig through it, access the pain and use it to your advantage. And call me._

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><p><strong><em>An: Sorry for the late update. Internet issues. Thank you for all the reviews, we can't give anything away yet but we're finally getting into the plot now.<em>**

**'Till Saturday!**


	6. Present Day

**And... here you go.**

**Thank you for sticking with us so far as we're still working out timing/upload schedule :)**

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><p><em>Present day<em>

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><p>Blaine Anderson spun around, putting his best boyish grin on as he heard the latch on the door click, signalling that his new roommate had arrived. He briefly ran a hand through his hair and tried to control his excitement as a boy's face peeked into the hallway. He was tall, taller than Blaine and his brown hair was tousled, styled so his bangs were out of his face. His clothes were fashionable, if slightly feminine, but he was handsome.<p>

Automatically Blaine felt a twinge in his stomach and his smile slip off his own face but he couldn't quite understand why. Shaking his head, he focused on sending a welcoming smile to the stranger.

The brunette in the doorway paused and there was a brief moment where both boys looked over the other ones face, trying to remember why it felt so familiar. Giving up, Blaine pushed back the strange concern he felt bubbling inside his stomach and he stuck out a hand.

"Hey. I'm Blaine A-"

"Anderson," the sea-green-eyed boy finished for him, his face pulling into a distinct snarl. Blaine looked at him properly

Oh, well _shit._

Blaine stood rooted to the spot, staring at him.

He was taller. He was slimmer. He was more defined, more toned, more... mature.

But it was Kurt Hummel.

Kurt looked to the ceiling in what Blaine figured was exasperation. "Out of all the colleges and _dorms, _I get put with you... Who freaking hates me? I can't believe this."

"_K-K-"_ Blaine stuttered, eyes wide. He hadn't seen this boy is years. _Years._ And while Kurt – oh, that felt strange – seemed to be dealing with this in the panicky-babbling way, Blaine simply felt like someone had hit him over the head with a large block of ice.

"Maybe I can ask to be moved," he muttered, ignoring Blaine.

Blaine watched his back as he stopped in the middle of the room, surveying the scene and he creased his eyebrows, "What are you even..? Are you-?"

"Am I what? Can't even remember who I am?"

Blaine raised his hands in defence at the other boy's lashing out. Was this some other universe? It sure felt like it. The brunette turned, stuck his hand out mockingly and snarled, "Kurt Hummel. I would say 'great seeing you again' but it really isn't."

"I- I know."

There was a drawn out pause which included Kurt panting slightly and Blaine staring dumbfounded. Flashes of skin against skin, flirty duets, late night walks, tongue against tongue, fleeting moments battled through his mind. Each one stabbing him as he remembered things he'd suppressed.

"Good. I'd hate to think I was just some stupid fuck." Kurt said, breaking the silence.

Blaine shook his head slowly. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. He needed to sort this out, rationally. Sighing, he began to make his way over to the bed and he sat down, watching the countertenor's every movement.

_Kurt._

Kurt Hummel, the guy he hadn't seen in years, now standing in front of him in what would now be _their_ dorm.

The tenor felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, but at least Kurt had stopped yelling. He was still talking though; he was literally just becoming a waterfall of words.

"I can't believe this! I mean, come on, I get put in a room with _you. You? _I need to ask to be moved this is just some cruel, cruel joke from someone who hates me, a lot. I honestly- whoever it was, I'm going to-" The younger of the two then gasped, cutting off his own speech.

At first Blaine thought maybe he'd just got tired from talking so much but Kurt then swivelled on his feet, pointing a finger at Blaine "Do you still talk to David?"

"What...?"

"I said 'do you still talk to David?'"

Blaine frowned, "Of course I do, but I don't see how that-"

"That _dick!_" The younger boy exploded, causing Blaine to slouch slightly as if he was expected to be hit.

"Kurt?"

The countertenor paused and deflated slightly, seeing Blaine's posture.

Kurt bit his lip and nodded to himself as a silent signal to keep calm; it wasn't Blaine's fault that they'd been put in the same room. Following the tenor's actions, Kurt sat down on his own bed.

"David suggested I came to the dorms. I lived with Rachel last year, in an apartment but she decided she wanted to try living in her school's dorms. She said I could have kept the apartment but it would have been too much," he explained. "I was talking to David about it and he put up a massive front about it. How it would be easier and cheaper. I had a few doubts but he somehow convinced me and I didn't even question why he was so enthusiastic..."

"I still don't get it," the older one replied, confused.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Nice to know you're still as oblivious as you are short."

Blaine huffed and stood up as if to make a point, "I've grown!"

Kurt sat on the bed a few seconds longer, turning his head to the side as if inspecting Blaine but before the tenor had a chance to feel uncomfortable, Kurt stood up, "Maybe you have, but I'm still taller."

And then something weird happened.

Blaine realized the proximity of Kurt and it _felt _like Kurt had too. The smaller boy's gaze drifted from Kurt's eyes and down to his lips and that was really a dangerous place to be looking. Soon after Blaine found himself just looking at Kurt's face, looking at how much it had changed so much yet the Kurt he loved was still there.

And then he remembered everything that had happened between them, how they'd never even said goodbye, how they'd had no form of contact in over two years and how right now they were both just acting like they had in the old days.

The old days were there relationship was _clean _and _fresh _but not now. Oh no. Now it was _crumpled _and _destroyed. _Blaine swallowed and looked down, "I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare," Kurt whispered gravely.

"But you don't understand-"

"- oh but I do Blaine," his voice clear this time, "I wasn't good enough-"

"No!" The tenor shouted, "That's not true." Blaine looked Kurt in the eyes as he said that, his pupils begging Kurt to understand that it wasn't true.

Kurt gazed back at Blaine, his face giving no emotion but then eventually he broke the eye contact by pushing Blaine back down onto the bed by the shoulder, "Stay here. I'm going to see if I can get a dorm transfer."

And before the tenor could stop him Kurt had closed the door leaving Blaine alone, just like he had two years ago.


	7. Transferring

**I'd like to say thank you everyone who is reading this! It's lovely for support, especially for a story we've worked so hard on. Thank you.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>As soon as Kurt shut the door, he let his body fall into it, not caring if Blaine heard a noise.<p>

_Holy heck though_, he thought. Blaine Anderson was in his room that they were meant to share. How on Earth was he meant to deal with this? How in the world out of all the possibilities did this even happen? There had to have been thousands of students that studied here and dormed, how did he get the one person he never wanted to see, ever again.

Blinking, he fished out his phone and sent a text to David.

**To: David  
>From: Kurt<br>why didn't you tell me Blaine went here? **

The countertenor didn't wait for the reply as he started walking towards reception to put in his quarry about the dorms, praying they could do something.

**To: Kurt  
>From: David<br>U've gone there 4 a year, how have you not noticed? **

The brunette frowned, why hadn't he noticed? He had been pretty wrapped up last year though. Last year, Kurt had decided to focus on school, a lot. He wanted his moneys' worth out of New York and he most definitely got it. He'd made a lot of new friends, _gay guy friends, _but he'd also had to think about changing his major.

Not that he didn't love singing any more; he just found that he loved history and politics far more interesting. In the end he'd switched over to a politics major but still took musical theatre. Kurt had no idea what Blaine took and the campus was rather big. Still though, you would have thought he'd have seen him at least once.

**To: David  
>From: Kurt<br>We're sharing a dorm.**

The tall countertenor opened the door and gave a charming (if fake) smile to the lady sitting at the desk. His phone buzzed once, then twice but Kurt ignored it.

"Hello young man, what can I do for you?" The middle aged woman asked, sliding her thick framed glasses down her nose.

"It's about dorms," he said nervously.

The blonde woman's head twitched to the side, "What about them?"

Kurt placed his hands on the desk, "Uh, see, I was put with someone I don't exactly _get along with." Understatement. _"And I was wondering if I could file for a transfer, or maybe move to a different dorm?"

The lady grimaced.

Bad sign.

"You can file for a transfer but it can take up to a month for it to actually be put through, it's a whole lot of forms too... And with switching with someone else? Well, it's not permitted but I'm sure if the reason was good enough it'd be fine."

"Oh," Kurt mumbled, "Well, it's not that bad I just... Can I take a look at the forms and get back to you?"

The woman nodded and slid out of her chair, going to a cabinet and pulling out a few sheets of paper, "All there, just read through and sign away."

Kurt bit his bottom lip as he took them from her, eyes darting over the many lines of small print and spaces for multiple signatures.

"Good luck honey," She said and nodded a goodbye to Kurt.

Walking out of the office with the wad of papers, he felt deflated. Looks like he was stuck this way. His phone suddenly buzzed again and Kurt pulled it out opening the messages.

**To Kurt  
>From: David<br>Oh. Dude, don't kill him. Give him a chance?**

**To: Kurt  
>From: Wes<br>Just heard from David.. Kurt, please don't upset Blaine.  
>Please don't kill him either; this could be good for both of you. <strong>

Kurt snorted. No way would this be good for him and he was pretty sure it'd be the same for Blaine too.

**To: Kurt  
>From: David<br>Y isn't Blaine picking up his phone? You've killed him haven't you? **

Kurt sighed and replied simply.

**To: David, Wes  
>From: Kurt<br>I'm nowhere near Blaine. He probably died of embarrassment when he realised he forgot who i was.**

Kurt couldn't be bothered anymore so he held down the button on his phone to lock and turn it off. He pushed open more double doors which would lead him outside where he'd have to cross campus and then face him again.

He actually couldn't though. Kurt paused and looked at the forms he held in his hand, scanning across the lines and lines of words.

He swallowed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling loudly. He couldn't be bothered to do this. He couldn't be bothered to just run away from Blaine because he'd definitely done enough of that in the past years.

Kurt stumbled over to a nearby bench and all but collapsed into it, dropping the papers to the floor and dumping his head in his hands which rested on his knees. He slowly massaged his temples and then pressed the palms of his hands into his closed eyes, finding the motion oddly relaxing. He rubbed his hands forcefully into his skull, focusing on what he could see and concentrated on the tiny bits of white in his closed eyes.

He used to do that a lot as a kid. Whenever things around him got too much, he'd sit down in the corner of the sofa or something and just shove his hands over his face, clenching his eyes closed. Beneath the lids, he'd focus his pupils on what he could see. He'd spend minutes searching for the white spots in his eyes as they were shut and try to think as doing so.

Now it just made him feel physically weary. He let his head drop down to his elbows, emitting a soft moan and then lifted it again, resting his chin on his palms, staring out across the courtyard.

He knew he'd go back. He'd pick up the forms and toss them in the trash can. He'd storm in and ignore Blaine because what else could he do? He'd try and figure out an alternative. He'd...

He didn't know what he could do after that.

Kurt straightened up and leant slowly against the back of the bench. All of that could wait for now.

Suddenly a soft voice sounded from behind him, making him jump a mile in the air.

"Hello? Are you okay?"

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><p>Blaine was sitting at his desk when the door clicked, although he was very unaware. Slumped over a large English Language textbook, a pen was held loosely in one hand and there was a tiny patch of dribble running from his mouth and down the spine of the book. Yes, on the day he got a new roommate who turned out to be a bit of a shock, he fell asleep while <em>revising.<em>

Oh, the shame.

And as the door opened cautiously, he simply shifted in his sleep, turning his head around. As his arm moved, his discarded phone nudged to the side and slowly slid down the side of the desk. It fell and hit the floor, pressing buttons and shining a light saying he had several missed calls and messages but Blaine still was unconscious.

Kurt carefully closed the door, not wanting to turn and face him. He took a small breath and turned around, sauntering into the room more confidently than he should be.

He walked over to the hunched figure, a frown set on his face, ready to give a strict and demanding speech which he'd been working on and memorising for the best part of an hour before he realised what state the 19 year old was in.

He contemplated waking him up, but he stopped. While Kurt told himself he didn't want to be near him, there was that stupid tiny part of his brain resurfacing and telling him that he always liked to see Blaine asleep. He used to wake up in the middle of the night but instead of going back to sleep, he'd watch the smaller tenor breathing peacefully next to him, usually hugging him tightly to his chest.

His stomach squirmed uncomfortably and his shook his head sharply. Mercedes advice rung in his head loudly, her words being something like, _"Boy, you really need a new guy in your life to get over one."_ Kurt scoffed and walked over to his bed, throwing himself down with an angry thump.

"Wu-? Who are we-? Whuzza time?" Blaine mumbled, shooting his head up. Kurt _almost_ sent him an endearing smile that was still instinctive.

_No, Kurt. That was a long time ago._

Kurt ignored him, flipping his legs over his bed and going to turn on his lamp and look in the drawers. At least, he thought that but in reality he was watching Blaine from the corner of his eye.

Blaine ran a hand through his gelled hair and over his face. He turned to face the countertenor and let a sleepy smile grace his face.

"Oh, right. Hey," He said softly. Kurt's stomach churned again.

Kurt nodded slightly. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Blaine stand up, stretching his arms wide and cracking his back. Kurt shivered slightly, not knowing if it was due to the noise or how a small sliver of skin was exposed around his abs when he stretched.

He relaxed and walked over to Kurt, stopping in front of him. Kurt kept his head tilted down but moved his eyes up, staring at Blaine.

"...Yes?" He asked in a monotone voice. Suddenly a hand was thrust in his face.

Blaine bit his lip and said, "I was thinking earlier. There's no way we can be roomies if you won't even look at me. Or talk to me. And while we've had arguments and ...stuff, I just think we're both older now. We should – try and _put it behind us._ Because, we both had sides to this story."

Kurt let his mouth fall open slightly in a curling grimace. He glared from Blaine to his outstretched hand, watching the smile slip from his face.

"Fuck you."

Blaine blinked as Kurt spat the words out. He turned around, pulling his legs onto the bed and ignored the boy who spluttered slightly. Kurt blinked once, twice, three times to stop the tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

Put it behind us? Both had sides?

_Fuck you Blaine fucking Anderson you fucking _fuck.


	8. Politics

**Thank you for the support! Ah, I think we're picking up the pace? We haven't written anything in a while, so you _may_ have to bare with us for a week but I don't think you will. Enjoy!**

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><p>Things were weird after that point.<p>

It felt like every time Kurt took one step back from Blaine, the curly haired-boy would try and take two steps forward towards the countertenor. It was like an endless and mindless game. No not a game, more like a dance.

Blaine tried to make conversation with Kurt many times, but Kurt didn't want Blaine to get sucked into his own personal life, not again. Sometimes Blaine would make a breakthrough where Kurt would talk to him for more than five minutes and the tenor felt like jumping for joy, but it was severely cut off when he would suddenly turn cold again.

"So, are you majoring in musical theatre?" Blaine asked one night when they were both lazing around doing separate things - on different sides of the room, of course.

"No," Kurt said plainly.

Blaine frowned and looked at Kurt for a bit. He wasn't pursing his dream to become a star? "What?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned to Blaine as if it was the toughest thing he had to do in his life time, "I've majored in History and Politics and I take musical theatre on the side. I did however major in it last year."

"Oh..." The smaller boy said lamely, feeling very confused. "Do you mind if I ask why? I mean, you were an amazing singer, such range. And it was your dream to become a star and everything right?"

Kurt inhaled. _It was also my dream to go to New York with you, get married to you, to forever be in love with you, _his inner voice muttered bitterly.

Instead he replied, "By taking politics I can support people of our sexual orientation and others. It gives me a voice, it gives power and people will listen. Not saying that singing doesn't have the same effect because it does, but everywhere is influenced and controlled by politics, not music. I love singing and it was my dream to be on stage, and it still is. Now, I want to stand on that stage and talk to people, help people, not just sing at them."

Blaine bit his lip, "So, you want to do what exactly?"

Kurt paused thinking about it, "I guess be an inspirational speaker. I want to share my story with others, not for pity but to show I understand how it feels to be pushed into lockers, called names, even be _cheated _on."

_Oh, low blow Hummel_, Blaine thought.

"Anyway," Kurt brushed it off as if it were nothing, "What are you taking?"

Blaine bit his lip slightly, kind of wishing he took something that could make a change to the world, "Oh, I'm taking a degree in music and composition. It's pretty awesome really, not to mention this school is great for-"

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Oh, hold on a sec," Kurt replied, leaning over his bed to check his phone. Blaine half smiled as he saw Kurt's t-shirt ride up a little and reveal milk-bottle-white skin he'd always longed for. He then realized what he was doing and shuffled down on his bed, ignoring the way Kurt smiled as he read the text.

"Who is it?" Blaine asked timidly.

"Hm?" Kurt asked, either not caring or not hearing him.

Blaine scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat, "Don't worry."

Kurt nodded and suddenly started tapping on the screen animatedly, a smile never leaving his face.

He waited patiently but couldn't help analysing the looks on Kurt's face. He was doing what had been described to him so many times by people like Mercedes and Rachel. He bit his bottom lip ever so slightly, as if toying with it and he licked the corner of his mouth quickly. A small smile spread on his face and he opened his mouth a little bit before obviously pressing the send button and suddenly it dropped. He let his phone fall back to the bed and glanced over to Blaine again.

Blaine couldn't help thinking his eyes just automatically _dulled_.

He was ashamed to admit that it brought a lump to his throat.

"What were you saying?" Kurt asked. Blaine blinked.

"Ab-About what?"

"Uh, school? Leaving?"

Was he even _listening _before?

Blaine swallowed, "I want to go travelling after this year's over."

Kurt arched an eyebrow, which sent a jolt of annoyance through Blaine's head. He continued, "I'm having fun here and doing what I like and I don't know what the future's going to be like, so I may as well take this opportunity, right?"

"Mm. Right."

Blaine rolled his eyes, "Whatever. You stay here and do studying or texting or-"

"Or what?"

There was a pause as their eyes locked and Blaine forced himself to exhale.

"Nothing." Another tense silence followed and he cleared his throat, "I've been planning it for a while now though. We're not just going to bolt off and-"

"We? Who's we?"

Blaine faltered because he _knew_ who Kurt was in contact with. But he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and said, "Wes. Our parents are really close and ... Y'know, they thought they could set up a boat or- or something..."

He trailed off, watching the countertenor. Kurt avoided his gaze and pretended to idly pick at his nail. He licked his lips again and said, "Sounds fun."

He didn't even supply a little hum of agreement. Kurt's phone beeped again and the tenor watched painfully as a smile instantly graced his face again.

He knew the conversation was over. It felt pretty forced anyway but still, he _missed _talking to Kurt.

He just wished Kurt missed talking to him too but by the look on his face as he texted, Blaine was pretty sure he didn't.


	9. That ginger kid

**Again, thank you for the reviews! Enjoy chapter 9 :)**

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><p>Blaine was getting sick and tired of it.<p>

So now, after two years they couldn't be mature about what had happened? In fact they'd never even _started _to be mature about the whole situation because Kurt wouldn't let them.

He still never let Blaine explain what _really _happened that day and eventually the tenor gave up even trying. The countertenor obviously didn't want to hear it.

So since then and since finding out they were going to be sharing a dorm, the pair had ridiculous amounts of arguments.

Like the one they were having now.

"I just don't see _why _you feel the need to leave all this crap on the floor! All I want to do is walk around without any of this shit tripping me up!" The countertenor snarled.

Blaine made a rude noise, "It's on _my _side of the room. If I want it to be messy, it will!"

Kurt huffed and sat down on the edge of his bed, his breathing uneven. "I just don't want to see all your stuff, it-"

"It _what, _Kurt?" Blaine asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Does it remind you of _me _too much? Well do you know what? Boo-fucking-hoo. It's going to remind you of me because- hello! I am here! You can try and avoid me and you can go off with those guys you're always texting or whatever, do what you want. However right now you're living here and I'm living here. If my belongings bother you then you're going to have to suck it up!"

Blaine swallowed the bile rising in his throat and ran a hand through his hair, picking up a jumper as he went to sit in his desk chair.

The older boy waited for Kurt to say something but eventually the countertenor sighed and began picking up Blaine's things. The tenor told Kurt to stop (in a much more complacent voice) but Kurt had just shrugged, "I don't like mess, if you can't tidy up your stuff I might as well."

And with that one sentence and the more times Blaine allowed Kurt to pick up something of his, more wedges were driven in on their relationship.

They might as well have been standing on opposite sides of America.

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><p>Blaine was crossing campus to his next class when he saw Kurt through a window. This was an oddity in itself because he <em>never<em> saw Kurt around the school – they both attended for a year without seeing each other, so why now? Blaine glanced around. It was close to empty. He was only late because he was using the library, so many students were in their classes, but Kurt just stood in the corridor.

Blaine hesitated before walking down the side of the building, unnoticed. He located the nearest door and pushed it open, walking inside the complete opposite direction he should've been going. He'd walked so far away from the window that he saw the countertenor in, Blaine was now right at the end of the corridor but he could still see him.

Blaine inhaled sharply as he heard footsteps approaching so he quickly darted backwards and stepped behind a group of lockers which jutted out unattractively. The door he'd just walked through opened and a boy walked through looked both ways and started walking up to Kurt.

Blaine let go of the breath he was holding and resurfaced from his hiding place. The only part of the boy he'd caught sight of before ducking were his eyes which were a sharp blue, although Blaine couldn't place the colour properly. Now, he saw the boy was tall, at probably nearly 6 foot. He was very slim too, and wore jeans that could compete with Kurt's equally in the tight field. His hair was what caught Blaine's attention though. Although covered with flecks of brown, it was quite startlingly ginger.

This stuck in his mind as the ginger kid walked up to Kurt and then around him, leaning on the wall. Blaine couldn't see Kurt's reaction as the countertenor's back was facing him but he very well saw the other boy's smirk. Blaine gritted his teeth as the ginger raised an arm about his head and leant that on the wall. He exchanged a soft whisper with Kurt as he bent forwards and Blaine made a noise in the back of his throat, gripping the locker.

It made a tiny metal clanging. Not too loud, but if one was listening...

The guy looked up and locked eyes with Blaine who made an involuntary gulping noise. He froze and knew he was busted, so stood his ground and stepped out from the lockers, challenging the guy.

...The guy smiled.

Even though he was right at the end of the corridor where he'd have to shout to be heard, Blaine saw the other boy's eye flicker shut in a brief wink. And then he leant in tilted his head to the side, capturing Kurt's lips in a soft kiss.

Blaine's stomach dropped.

Actually, he felt like it was about to come up his throat.

He shouldn't be affected by this, he shouldn't be watching, he shouldn't feel jealous. He shouldn't want to go and kick this stupid guy in the balls as hard as possible and he shouldn't want to be in his place. But he did.

The ginger kid pulled away from Kurt and tugged the corner of his mouth up in a proud smile. He whispered something else before winking at Kurt now and he waggled his fingers. Kurt reciprocated and the ginger kid, without sparing a look towards Blaine, walked off in the direction he was going.

Kurt shuffled and Blaine ducked behind the lockers again, peeking out from the corner. All Kurt did was turn to lean his back against the wall, but Blaine watched as he tilted his head upwards, a tiny grin on his face and he wrapped his arms around himself in a giddy hug.

Blaine swallowed and being as quiet as he could, turned around and walked away.

* * *

><p>Kurt stepped out of the shower that afternoon, towel around his waist right as he heard the slam of the door. He rolled his eyes at the force of his and quickly grabbed a second towel to try and dry his hair. There was a tell-tale sound of Blaine chucking his keys onto the desk and them hitting the floor instead and then a large groan of his bed as he fell onto it.<p>

Kurt grabbed a clean t-shirt that he'd brought into the bathroom with him and a pair of jeans and pulled them on. He smirked at himself in the mirror because, really, hair tousled and damp matched with a casual but flattering outfit looked amazing on him.

What? He was still Kurt Hummel, overly-modest diva.

He exited the bathroom with the smaller towel, still rubbing at his hair absent-mindedly and surveyed the state of the boy on the bed. Blaine's face was stuffed in his pillow and his hands were wrapped around his head, one hand woven into his curls and gripping them tightly. As Kurt's thoughts strayed he blinked and thought back to earlier.

Ah.

"Bad day?" Kurt asked, placing the towel neatly on the chair and sitting down on his bed.

"Maybe."

Kurt sighed, "Fine, whatever."

He brought his large cosmetics bag to his chest and began rifling around in it carefully, looking for his new Clinique moisturiser. Blaine eventually looked up, resting his hand in his head, elbow on his pillow.

"Do you know some guy called – Oh, I've forgotten his name..." Blaine said suddenly.

Kurt looked up, "Very helpful."

"He's tall and ginger."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. Smooth, Anderson. Really smooth.

"Why?"

"Oh, I- I just saw him today. He looked at me and like...made a face."

Kurt watched as Blaine screwed his own face up slightly as if he couldn't believe what he was saying. There was a small pause where Kurt uncapped a moisturiser.

"I know someone called Roland." He eventually said, "He was wearing a purple hoodie today and vans shoes. That him?"

Blaine nodded and Kurt mirrored him. He closed his eyes and gently sprayed the mist on his face, feeling the familiar tightening as it dried, effectively clearing his pores. He stayed emotionless for a second before opening his eyes and smiling again.

"You want to get a pizza tonight?" Kurt asked. Blaine blinked in surprise.

"You never eat take out!"

Kurt stood up and ran a hand through his now dry hair. "No, I'm going out. I was wondering for you."

"Oh."

Blaine watched Kurt grab his bag and his jacket.

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

Kurt turned his back on the boy because Blaine's voice sounded odd.

"Okay. I don't think I will, I...I'm not very hungry."

* * *

><p><strong>We're going to be uploading once a week now, so would you prefer Wednesdays or Saturdays? Thanks!<strong>


	10. You're late

Kurt stopped outside his dormitory door and gently felt around in his bag for his keys. Once he located the cold metal, he held them all together so they didn't make any loud jingling noise and carefully slid the right key into his door. It gave a soft click as he turned it to the side and Kurt pushed it cautiously open. The hallway was dark. He licked his lips and stepped in, closing the door as quietly as he could and as he turned around-

"It's an hour and a half past curfew."

"_Fucking hell!"_ Kurt jumped and spun around to see the outline of Blaine standing in the hallway. He turned on the light switch and seeing no need to be quiet, Kurt chucked his keys onto the table, glaring at Blaine. "Don't creep up on me like that!"

"Why were you out for so long?" Blaine demanded, staring at him coldly. Kurt snorted.

"Yeah, like that's any of your business." He said, striding forwards and past the smaller boy. Blaine turned around and followed him.

"Oh, good point, when was it any of my business that you're going around f-"

"What?" Kurt exclaimed. He turned around from where he was facing his bed, putting his bag down and saw Blaine falter, "Go on, what were you going to say?"

"I was asking why you were out for so long!" Blaine quickly recovered.

"I still don't see how this concerns you," Kurt said, adding a chuckle and trying to be calm. He didn't understand why he was only a centimetre away from losing it when usually he would be able to talk his way out of an argument for much longer.

"Maybe because we share this room?" Blaine replied almost sarcastically, "And I want to know-"

"Yeah, we _share_ this room!" Kurt interrupted, "So it doesn't actually matter when I come back because I have my own keys and my own life!"

"Kurt, it's nearly 1 in the morning!" Blaine exclaimed, "What the hell could you be doing on a date other than-"

He cut himself short again and Kurt raised an eyebrow angrily.

"Other than what?" He asked. His voice was dangerously low.

Blaine shook his head and bit his lip angrily, "I just want to know what you were doing!"

Kurt sighed in irritation stared at him. "Blaine, what is wrong with you? You were never like this-"

"Oh, that's a good point," Blaine snorted, "Then again, the last time you spoke to me was over two years ago before you ran out and _refused_ to-"

"And I wonder why I did that!" Kurt exclaimed shrilly, his face starting to turn red, "Maybe it was the fact that _you_ and some _guy-!"_

"-Are we going back there, Kurt? Really-?"

Their voices were getting louder and louder and turning into a tumble of angry words being thrown back and forth, faces inching closer as the insults got more vicious.

"Yes we're going back there, because you have no right-!"

"-I have the right to say whatever the fuck I want to say to you, bec-!"

"-Because _you're_ the slut?"

"I'm not the fucking-!"

"-Yeah, I bet that guy would beg to differ!" Kurt full on yelled. He took a step closer and said, "What did you do after I left? Go home and suck his cock? Or could you just not wait and he took you over the fucking tabl-"

"Alright, fine!" Blaine shouted, "If you really want that to happen, then yeah, I sucked his cock. And _yeah_ we fucked, right on _our_ special study table, and you know what? He was much better than you."

He finished with a glint of malice in his eyes and breathing heavily. Kurt shut his mouth and refused to let the tears that were threatening to spill over fall. He did the first thing he thought of to inflict the pain he'd just received.

_SMACK._

Blaine stumbled back a few steps as the force of Kurt's hand slapped against his face with all the strength he could muster. Later, Kurt would probably admit that it was a few smidgens too powerful, but right now he was just happy to _hurt_ this guy because the gut-wrenching pain he was feeling in his stomach wasn't going away. He watched as Blaine grabbed onto his bed post, supporting himself with his face angled down and to the side, frozen from the impact.

There was an empty silence as the slap seemed to echo around the room and both boys started to come to their senses. At once, Kurt lifted his slightly stinging hand to his mouth as he bit back a sob and Blaine blinked, compassion flooding back into his irises again.

He ignored the throbbing, harsh pain in the left side of his face and immediately looked up to Kurt, trying to find the words to say how he-

"God, I can't live with you," Kurt whispered, more to himself.

"I-I-" Blaine stuttered, eyes wide, "Kurt, I- I didn't mean that, I didn't mean any of that-"

"I can't. I can't deal with this," He said quietly again, now staring almost fearfully at Blaine.

He was scared. He was terrified. He had _never _hit out at anybody and the last person he thought he'd ever hit was Blaine. Even though he felt like shrivelling up and not eating when they last departed, he didn't want to hurt him. He knew he couldn't.

But he did.

He wasn't violent. Snappy, witty, slightly arrogant maybe, but he wasn't violent. He never lowered himself to the level of the people that made _his_ life hell and pushed _him _around.

"Kurt, please, come on-"

Kurt shook his head. "I can't, you're- Blaine, you're too much _stress, _I..."

Blaine's face dropped slightly and he made to step forwards but thought better of it. "I-I'm sorry, I- I don't-"

He couldn't seem to say anything in his defence and he just stared at Kurt, willing to be forgiven. He hadn't realised he's been pushing him for information. Kurt was right. It was none of his business.

Kurt glanced at his cheek and already he saw the red mark becoming more prominent and looking more like the shape of his own hand.

The tears fell over now and ran down his face.

"Kurt-" Blaine said, still at loss. He couldn't comfort him, so he just sucked his bottom lip in and continued, "-You- It's too late for a transfer, you- Please-"

He stopped again. _What could he say to make this better?_

The damage was done.

"Leave me alone," He said. It wasn't vindictive or harsh, it was pleading. Kurt stared at him a little longer, his eyes impossibly wide and shining with tears before turning and grabbing his cosmetics bag and walking past Blaine, putting a lot of distance between their shoulders. Blaine waited until he heard the bathroom door shut before he moved.

He swallowed tightly and let his eyes dart around the room. That was definitely their worst argument yet. He slowly lifted a hand to his cheek and prodded it tentatively. It hurt.

It was then Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and accepted the tears too. He tried to hold it in but eventually just walked back to his rumpled bed and sat down on it, crying quietly but openly.

The night ended half an hour later, when Kurt emerged from the bathroom. Blaine pretended to be asleep and Kurt pretended to not know that he was pretending. He slipped into his bed and they both let the tears fall sideways, rolling over their noses and onto the pillows.

* * *

><p><strong>And here we go *holds hands up in surrender and apology* we're kind of... hiatusing.<strong>

**It so lovely that we have these reviews as we weren't sure if this story would catch, but we have a lot on our plates right now. Both of us are in the middle of an English paper, I'm about to go into a French one, we have maths revision and to top it all off, we're both planning for NaNoWriMo.**

**It's sucky, I know. We'll update this not next week, but the week after and then we'll tell you from there when we've got our heads together. However, if you are interested in our _original_ stories that we have to write 50,000 words for in a month, head on over to mine and Becky's NaNo page in November! I have a snippet up already and the links will be on our Bio.**

**Thank you and sorry!**


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